


Attack

by AutisticWriter



Category: The Fast Show
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Coming Out, Crying, Dark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear, Hate Crimes, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Rated For Violence, Rated for Gore, Serious Injuries, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 13:00:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8402659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutisticWriter/pseuds/AutisticWriter
Summary: Ralph gets on the wrong side of a violent homophobe.





	

Ralph is sick of Ted’s friends teasing him about his love for Ted whenever Ted gets up to get new drinks (Ted would tell them to shut up if he heard), and decides to leave the pub and walk home while Ted is in the loo. He pulls his coat on and walks out of the pub, ignoring them as they make kissy-noises behind his back. The cool November air is refreshing on his flushed face, and he wraps his arms around his chest as he starts to shiver.

It’s only when he’s almost out of the car park when he comes to the terrifying conclusion that someone might be following him. Now, Ralph will be the first to admit that he’s a very paranoid and anxious person, but he thinks it might be a real threat this time. He quickens his pace, suddenly wishing he hadn’t had those two pints in the pub.

He thinks he might be safe, until something small and hard hits him in the small of the back, sending him stumbling forwards as his alcohol-impaired balance fails him. He trips over his own feet and goes sprawling to the damp ground. He feels the knees of his trousers and the elbows of his blazer tear, but the pain barely registers as his back throbs.

Swearing under his breath, Ralph rolls onto his back, and sits up, rubbing his grazed elbow... and that’s when he sees it. There’s someone walking towards him, their figure only a silhouette in the near darkness. But, as they walk under the light of a lamppost, Ralph sees his face, and he looks bloody angry with Ralph, even though Ralph has never seem this man before. Ralph scrabbles to his feet, wishing Ted was here, and finding his knees shaking.

“Where d’you think you’re going, you poof?” The man says, his voice disturbingly calm.

Ralph wants to ask why the hell he just called him a ‘poof’, but he can’t seem to form any words. The man reaches him and grabs one of the lapels of Ralph’s blazer, his anger-contorted face inches from Ralph’s. Ralph’s heart is pounding in his chest. He’s pretty sure he knows what’s going to happen next, but it still makes him scream in agony as the man drives his knee into Ralph’s groin.

“Fuck!” He hisses, doubling over. He rarely swears – he doesn’t like it – but it just hurts so much.

But, as soon as he has doubled over, the man kicks him in the face, sending him crashing to the ground. Crying out, Ralph feels a crunch as his nose breaks, and blood begins to pour down his face, running into his open mouth and making him feel really sick. Ralph grabs at his face, feeling his fingers get coated in warm, sticky blood, then pain shooting through his head so intense that he watches his vision blur for a few seconds. His nose doesn’t feel the right shape any more. His groin hurts unbearably too; he wonders if something might have ripped, it hurts so badly.

Ralph looks up at the man who just hurt him, and wonders why he’s just standing there staring at him, watching him investigate his broken nose without beating him up again. He meets Ralph’s eyes, and smiles.

“Like that, you fairy?” He says.

“Wh-what?” Ralph splutters, blood from his nose spraying out of his mouth.

The man has called him a ‘poof’, and now he’s called him a ‘fairy’. It takes Ralph’s probably concussed brain far too long to remember that those two words are homophobic slurs. This man must know that he’s gay (most people in the village know, because Ralph isn’t too good at keeping his crush on Ted a secret), which mean this must be a homophobic hate crime.

“You heard me. You’re a fucking queer, and, unless you want to apologise for your fucking existence, you’re going to get more of that.” The man says, and, as though to prove his point, he stamps down on Ralph’s chest so hard Ralph thinks his ribs might have cracked.

“What? I, I’m... not, I—”

Ralph is cut off of his ramblings with another kick to the face. His boot hits his forehead, and the force of the blow makes Ralph’s ears ring and his vision blur.

“Fine then, I see how it is,” the man says, and he smiles a bloody creepy smile that makes Ralph feel like he’s about to die. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Ralph barely has time to close his eyes before, with a run up, he starts pummelling every part of Ralph he can reach with his booted foot. Ralph cries out again, and curls up on his side, cradling his head with his trembling hands and tucking his knees up to his painful chest. Now his head and abdomen are safe, Ralph feels a little safer... until he starts kicking every other part of Ralph’s body: his arms, his lower legs, his back. At one point, he manages to kick Ralph in the lower right side of his back, sending a hideous shooting pain all the way down the back of his leg. And, all the time he kicks Ralph, he yells homophobic slurs at him.

Finally, one kick to his knee that seems to dislocate his kneecap makes Ralph do what he’s been trying to avoid since he started getting beaten up: he starts crying. It hurts his chest to sob, so silent tears trickle down his bloody face, but he still feels like he’s letting the man win, that he’s giving in instead of fighting, reinforcing his own belief that he’s a complete wimp.

After what seems like years, the man stops kicking him. But Ralph doesn’t know why. He opens his eyes, and sees that the man is now crouched down beside him, looking closely at his face. Ralph wants to hit him, but he doesn’t know if he can even move. And then a horrible smile crosses his attacker’s face, and Ralph feels more panicked than ever.

“You’re crying!” The man sneers. “How pathetic!”

And, just when Ralph thinks he might be stopping this awful attack, he stamps on his face. Ralph screams, feeling some of his teeth dislodge, his mouth fill with blood, and his skin tear. Despite the pain in his chest, he sobs openly, the sobs becoming horribly loud when he stamps on his hand. He can’t bear it.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Someone suddenly yells, their voice horrified and really bloody loud and sounding distinctly... Irish?

His heart leaping, Ralph raises his head off of the ground and sees someone rushing out of the pub, hardly daring to believe that this is happening. Their image is doubling and slightly blurred (how hard has he whacked his head?), but Ralph is pretty sure he knows who it is.

“Leave them alone, you wanker!” Ted yells at the man, who has paused with his foot hovering over Ralph’s already burning chest.

Ralph watches a slightly blurred Ted run towards them, wishing he wasn’t so far away from the pub and finding a small part of his mind amazed to have just heard Ted swear.

“Fuck off, old man!” The man yells back, and he stamps on Ralph’s chest so hard he lets out a high pitched whine, feeling a sickening pain shoot though his chest like someone is stabbing him with a knife.

“Fuck,” he splutters, his chest feeling like it’s caving in. He screws his eyes up, suddenly very alarmed to find his breathing making a hissing noise as he exhales.

When he opens his eyes again, he sees that Ted has reached their side; he looks down at Ralph, and he stumbles backwards, his eyes widening, obviously realising who this man’s victim is.

“S-Sir?” He gasps, horrified.

And then he looks at the man, and his face contorts into an expression of anger like none Ralph has seen before. He looks like he’s going to kill the man who has hurt him. Ralph doesn’t like violence, but, right now, he wouldn’t stop Ted if he wanted to do that. His vision doubling, Ralph stares blearily up at the two men before him, listening to the way his chest is hissing as he gasps for breath.

“You bastard,” Ted hisses, staring at the man with pure hatred. He clenches his hands into fists, and Ralph wonders if he’s going to hit him.

Sure enough, Ted stares at the man for a few seconds, before swinging his fist and punching him hard in the face. The man stumbles backwards, holding his face, staring at horror in Ted.

“What the fuck?” He gasps, his voice thick; Ted must’ve hit him in the mouth.

Ted grabs the man by his shoulders, forcing him to look at him. Ralph sees blood oozing out of the corner of his mouth. Ted puts his face very close to the man’s, just like the attacker had done to Ralph not that long ago, and glares at him.

“Don’t you DARE hurt him, you bastard, or I’ll make sure you never go to the bloody pub again,” Ted hisses, his teeth gritted.

Ralph doesn’t expect the man to go away at all, or even to listen to Ted, who he has only just called an ‘old man’, but, to his amazement, he pulls Ted’s hands from his shoulders and runs off without a backwards glance. Once the man has turned the corner, leaving the two of them alone, Ted drops to his knees beside Ralph, and stares at him.

To Ralph’s amazement, he doesn’t look angry any more. No, he now looks terrified as his eyes scan Ralph’s body, looking at his injuries. He makes a groaning noise, closing his eyes for a few seconds, and then opens them again, and looks Ralph in the eyes.

“Sir . . .” his voice is soft; he sounds slightly like he wants to cry. “Your nose, it’s broken.”

Ralph doesn’t know what to say, so he just smiles as well as he can when the inside of his mouth is all swollen and sore.

And then Ted must see the tears running down Ralph’s bloody face, because his lip wobbles like he’s about to break down. When he speaks, his voice is strangled, and shakes with suppressed sobs, “You poor thing. What should I do to help? Should I call an ambulance? What hurts the most?”

Ralph doesn’t think he has enough breath to answer all of those babbled questions, so he just mumbles, “Chest.”

“Your chest?”                                                    

“Y-yeah.”

Ted looks even more terrified than before; he’s silent, and Ralph has a feeling he’s listening to the way Ralph’s laboured breathes are hissing whenever he exhales.

“Bloody hell,” Ted wipes at his eyes with his badly shaking hand. Ralph remembers him getting a bit tearful and doing the same thing the time Ralph started talking about the time he was hospitalised thanks to a wonderful mental illness making him . . . do something very stupid.

“’M sc-scared, Ted,” he mumbles, and more bloody spit spills out of his mouth.

“I need to call an am-ambulance,” Ted says, his voice trembling, his hands shaking as he presses them against the damp ground to brace himself. “Y-You’re really hurt.”

Ralph sees the flaw in Ted’s plan, and begins to panic (well, panic a bit more than he already is): Ted doesn’t have a mobile phone, and neither does he. He reaches out with his good hand and grasps Ted’s own, smearing it with blood.

“Don’t g-go,” he whispers shakily.

Ted looks conflicted, but, in the end, sighs and smiles. “Fine, I won’t leave, sir.”

“Don’t l-leave me T-Ted,” he says, his eyes filling with more tears, not quite believing him.

He can’t help but worry that if Ted leaves him alone to go and call an ambulance, that the man might come back, and hurt him even more. What if he kills him? Then he’ll die without ever having told Ted how he feels about him. He has to tell Ted.

“T-Ted... I l-love you,” he says, having to force the words out, no longer caring about how embarrassing this is, just wanting to tell him, just in case.

Ted just stares at him. And then he says, “I know, sir.”

He is about to say something (most likely to ask Ted just how long he has known), when Ralph hears a voice.

“Ted, where are you, you old bugger?” Someone yells. Ralph recognises the voice as belonging to Simon, one of Ted’s friends who had been winding him up in the pub.

Ted looks up, and waves his arms above his head, smiling a smile that looks both relieved and scared.

“Over here!” He yells hoarsely. “Ralph’s been beaten up!”

“Fucking hell!” Bill, another one of Ted’s friends, cries.

Ralph hears footsteps as they hurry over. Soon, Simon, Bill and David are crowded around Ted and Ralph, looking sick and horrified. Without saying anything, David spins on his heels and hurtles back towards the pub. Simon and Bill crouch down either side of Ted, still just staring at him.

“Is Dave c-calling an ambulance?” Ted asks.

Simon and Bill just nod, looking dazed as they stare at Ralph, seemingly unable to speak.

“Thanks,” Ted says.

“Who hurt him?” Simon says, looking between Ralph and Ted.

Bill doesn’t say anything; the sight of Ralph’s blood must be making him feel sick. Ralph doesn’t blame him; blood has always made him feel sick too.

“You’ll be all right, sir,” Ted says, but his voice sounds funny, almost like he’s underwater.

His vision is fading in and out of focus again. He wonders if he is going to pass out. Everything hurts so much. He can barely breathe. Everything is so hazy...

\---

After what seems like an eternity but can only have been about twenty minutes, the ambulance arrives. Relief surges through Ted’s tight chest, and he sees Ralph smile weakly. Ted jumps to his feet, hurriedly wiping his damp eyes and smiling at the paramedics as they come over to the little huddle of men. There are two women, one older, one young, and a middle aged man.

The older woman, who gives her name as Sophie, kneels down on the floor next to Ralph, putting a massive bag down beside her, whilst the man kneels behind Ralph’s head and grasps either side of his head, presumably to hold it steady. Ted sees his friends back away, as though scared of getting in the way. He sits down beside Ralph again, feeling dampness soaking through the seat of his trousers.

“Hello, Mr Mayhew,” Sophie says softly.

Ralph looks up at her, one of his eyes gummed together with blood, his face horribly pale and already bruising. Tears are still leaking out of his good eye, and Ted can’t look without wanting to cry.

“’Lo,” Ralph mumbles thickly, a lot of blood and saliva dribbling out of the corner of his mouth.

“Right,” she says, “let’s get you sorted out. What hurts the most?”

Ted watches Ralph’s eye fix on him; he realises that Ralph wants him to speak on his behalf. He takes a deep breath, and does his best to sound calm.

“Uh, well, it’s his chest,” Ted says shakily. “It’s making a hissing noise when he breathes.”

Sophie grimaces.

“What?” He says, his chest tightening.

“Chest pain and hissing breathing usually suggests a quite severe chest injury,” Sophie says. “Do we have permission to examine you, Mr Mayhew?”

When Ralph mumbles his permission, the young woman cuts the front of Ralph’s blazer, shirt and vest off of him, exposing his whole chest and abdomen. Ted winces as he sees the bruises all over his skin, especially when he sees the horrendous swelling on his chest. Sophie carefully presses her fingers Ralph’s chest, but the only time he cries out is when she touches the swollen part.

“Fractured ribs?” The man says to Sophie.

She nods. “Most likely. Right, Mr Mayhew,” she says, turning back to Ralph, “we need to get you onto the ambulance as quickly as possible.”

Ted scrabbles backwards to get out of their way, and watches the paramedics put a neck brace on Ralph, before strapping him onto a stretcher. Throughout the whole ordeal, Ralph’s face is screwed up, and Ted hears him make a whining sound. He’s obviously in agony, the poor sod. Ted wants to say something reassuring, but he doesn’t know if his words would help Ralph in any way; in the end, he stays silent.

Then the paramedics pick up the stretcher and take Ralph into the ambulance. Knowing he wants to go in there with Ralph, Ted hurriedly says goodbye (and thanks) to his friends, before stumbling up the steps into the back of the ambulance. He gets his foot on the top step when the one of the paramedics speaks to him.

“Sorry, sir, its family only,” the male paramedic says.

Ted looks past him, and sees Ralph try to raise his head up off of the stretcher, but the neck brace means he doesn’t get far. He looks so terrified, and Ted knows he can’t just leave him. And then it comes to him.

“I _am_ family,” Ted says, talking to the paramedic but looking at Ralph, “he’s my partner.”

The male paramedic frowns, clearly confused, but the female paramedic smiles at him; behind them, Ralph smiles too. Sophie looks up from inserting an IV into Ralph’s arm, and says, “Well, then, sir, please sit down.”

Ted looks where she is gesturing, and sees a small, pull-down chair on the wall opposite Ralph’s stretcher. He takes a seat, and Ralph immediately reaches out his arm towards him. Ted takes his hand, trying not to look at the bruises up his arm and the IV sticking out of the inside of his elbow.

“Can you be careful, please?” Sophie says quickly when she sees the two of them holding hands. “Don’t touch the needle.”

“I won’t,” Ted says, slightly offended that she thinks he might hurt Ralph.

Sophie turns back to Ralph and says, “I’m just giving you some painkillers, Mr Mayhew. You should start feeling your pain reduce in a few minutes.”

“Th-Thanks,” Ralph mumbles.

Ralph is shivering, so the male paramedic takes out a large red blanket and covers Ralph’s legs with it. Ted is feeling rather cold himself, but he doesn’t say anything. He hunches forwards and keeps his grip on Ralph’s blood-covered hand, wishing his fingers would stop feeling so cold. Ted looks up at the three paramedics as they bustle around Ralph. The young woman fixes sticky pads with wires coming off of them to Ralph’s chest; after they are all attached, she switches on a machine that starts beeping. Ted recognises it as one of those things that measures your heart rate.

She sees him looking and says, “His heart rate’s a bit too low, but that’s understandable, what with the blood loss.”

He nods, even though it makes his head spin. Sophie is feeling Ralph’s chest again, which looks much worse in the bright light of the ambulance. She also leans her ear very close to Ralph’s face; she must be listening to him breathing. Then she looks up at the other paramedics, before looking down at Ralph.

“You have a punctured lung, Mr Mayhew,” Sophie says, looking concerned.

“Definitely?” Ted says, feeling his stomach lurch. He may not know much about medicine, but even Ted knows that is bloody bad news.

Sophie nods. “I’m afraid so.”

The young paramedic sighs as Ted groans.

“Chest tube?” She says.

“Yeah,” Sophie says, “it’s not easy, but we need to do it.”

As the other two paramedics rush around collecting the equipment they need, Ted watches Sophie lean over Ralph again.

“I’m afraid you’ll need to let go of your friend,” she says to Ralph. “We need the room.”

Ralph looks so sad, but he lets go of Ted’s hand. Ted tucks his hands under his armpits, trying to warm himself up. Once they have got all of the equipment ready, the male paramedic passes Sophie what looks like a scalpel, and rubs the side of Ralph’s chest with antiseptic. Ted’s eyes widen; what the hell are they going to do to Ralph?

Sophie seems to read his mind, because she says, “Mr Mayhew, we are going to insert a chest tube. You shouldn’t feel any pain, but this may feel rather strange.” Looking at Ted, she adds, “It sucks the blood and air out of the chest cavity, which allows the lung to re-inflate.”

Ted nods like he understands, but he doesn’t. Ralph doesn’t seem to be processing what anyone is saying; he’s so drugged up that he’s almost unconscious.

“You may want to look away,” the man says to Ted, but he doesn’t.

To Ted’s horror, Sophie leans closer to Ralph and presses the scalpel against the side of Ralph’s chest, between his ribs, until it breaks the skin. Blood dribbles out of the cut, and, although Ted has seen so much of Ralph’s blood already tonight, the sight makes him feel sicker than ever. The male paramedic then hands her a small tube, and, to Ted’s disgust, Sophie feeds the end of the tube right into his chest. Ted grimaces. The anaesthetic must be bloody strong, he thinks, for Ralph to be having a tube stuck into his chest and not noticing the pain.

Once this disgusting procedure is done, the young woman gets out of the ambulance and gets into the driver’s seat. She switches the engine on, and Ted feels the ambulance jolt as they drive away. Even though he wants to scream and cry and beg Ralph not to die, Ted simply sits there and hopes beyond hope that Ralph will pull through.

\---

Finally, after hours and hours of exhaustion and fear, Ted gets to see Ralph. A nurse leads him into Ralph’s room, and, when he sees him, Ted stares at him with wide eyes.

Ralph is wearing a different neck brace now, a plastic one around his chest that is forcing his head back at a weird angle. He looks much better with all of the blood gone, but is still horribly pale, and the stitches make him look even paler. His bare chest is wrapped in bandages and Ted sees a tube poking out of the bandages. His right hand and wrist are in a cast, his fingers horribly bruised. Basically, he looks dreadful.

He expected Ralph to be asleep, but his eyes are open, and Ted sees that his eyes are focused on him. Ted goes over to him, and sits down beside the bed. He doesn’t know what to say; his mouth doesn’t seem to be working properly. His head is still pounding, and his eyes are burning with fatigue. Still, despite this, he manages to smile at Ralph.

“Ted,” Ralph says. His voice is hoarse, thick and slightly slurred. When his mouth is open, Ted clearly sees stitches in his swollen gums, and two missing teeth.

Just like when they were in the ambulance, Ralph reaches out his hand. Ted takes his hand, which now has an IV sticking out of the back of it, and carefully clasps it between both of his own. As he holds onto Ralph, Ted finds his eyes starting to fill with tears.

“H-Hello, sir,” he says, his voice sounding just as odd as Ralph’s. “How’re you feeling? Sorry, stupid question.”

They both smile, Ted chuckling weakly. But then Ralph suddenly looks serious.

“D-Do you remember what I... said to you?” Ralph says softly.

He could be referencing any number of conversations, but, judging by the way his very pale cheeks are flushing, Ted knows there is only one thing he is talking about: telling Ted that he loves him.

“Yes, sir, I do,” he says, finding his own face going red. “And I was telling the truth. I’ve known for years.”

“’M not the b-best at hiding it, am I?” Ralph says.

Ted shakes his head, and his vision blurs slightly. Considering that he hasn’t slept and is probably very dehydrated, it’s no wonder that he feels so dizzy.

“No, you’re not, sir,” he says, “but it doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have to hide it. And...” Now he’s horribly embarrassed, but he feels like he has to say it. “...I think I love you too.”

Ralph looks amazed. Ted feels pretty amazed too; he never expected himself to say that. But it doesn’t feel wrong.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Ted says.

Ted leans forwards and carefully kisses Ralph’s forehead. Ralph smiles and squeezes his hand, and, despite his injuries, he looks... happy. He was definitely right, Ted thinks – there is no way this is wrong. To him, it feels perfect.


End file.
